


A worthy Jarl

by vtedy1



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22773607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtedy1/pseuds/vtedy1
Summary: One small talk with the Dragonborn makes Siddgeir reconsider his stance to be a human manikin and he starts carrying about his people's safety leading him into slowly improving his hold. Complete.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Siddgeir
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep going back to Siddgeir in all of my playthroughs so I am writing a story about a competent version of him. I hope you all like it.

The somber town of Falkreath awoke to the new day to a most peculiar sight. Jarl Siddgeir was seen pacing outside of his Longhouse as a man possessed. The reason for that was the observations of a recently hired mercenary. “Falkreath doesn’t have Helgen to protect it.” The man had said. “And Fort Neugrad is falling apart and overrun with bandits besides.” He had continued.

And like a bucket of cold water had fallen on his head Siddgeir realized that it was true. Since the visit of the mercenary, the Jarl couldn’t so much as sleep peacefully. He was at war with the rebels and now, for the first time, he realized his town was ripe for sacking. His people, to whom he had barely given a thought until these past few days, were going to be slaughtered. He was going to be deposed in someone else’s favor and maybe his head would roll as well.

There had to be something he could do about it all. He had plenty of timber to build walls around his town. Then again timber was very flammable and with the Dragon pests, his effort might come to naught. No, he would have to empty his coffers commissioning stone from the Reach’s queries. And even if he could place better walls to protect his people he needed food to withstand a siege. He could hardly allow his hunters to brave enemy lines for some venison!

Fortunately, he could easily expand Falkreath’s borders by cutting down the surrounding forests. Siddgeir stopped his pacing for just a moment and stared absent-mindedly. Who was going to work on the new farms? He had a surplus of bandits and few people of his own. The sun shone merely as if mocking the Jarl in his quest to preserve his town. If he could threaten the bandits into submission. Pay them somehow to do what he wanted him his treasury would suffer greatly, but he would have the labor he needed.

Then there was the problem with that Mercenary. It had been a week already since he had sent him and this Nathaniel was yet to return. Embershard mine was not that far. And in fact, the rumors of Dragons had started not long after he had departed. Siddgeir exhaled and then inhaled to calm himself. Whether the mercenary would come back or no was of little concern, for now, he had plenty of work to do.

Silently he entered his home and went straight to his room. Without hesitation, he wrote the letter to the Jarl of the Reach. If he was lucky his demand for stone for the building would be delivered to Igmund while the Nord was in a good mood. And if he was luckier no Forsworn would attack the caravans. He sealed the letter and gave it to an already waiting courier. Whit this done the Jarl had his Housecarl gather the town’s people in front of his Longhouse.

Siddgeir tried to formulate his speech beforehand a couple of times and failed. What was he going to tell these people? The truth? They will panic and abandon their homes if he told anyone he was redying for a siege! They held little loyalty for him and Siddgeir couldn’t blame them. He left the ruling to his court and only went outside of his Longhouse for extravagant hunts. He couldn’t tell them he didn’t believe that the Empire will protect them or that it won’t stop the shipments of food eventually.

No, he had to prepare these people and prove himself a worthy Jarl. With that thought in mind, he exited his home to face the waiting crowd. The sun was still shining, but the people were weary. The last time he had addressed them like this was when he wanted to raise taxes. They hadn’t been trilled back then and he knew they would be less than pleased when he told them he needed free labor from them.

“People of Falkreath” he began slowly “In the following days I want you to hack away the surrounding trees for we are going to build new farms. We can’t expect to live off the toils of hunters and poachers any longer. The new farms will be distributed to those of you who wish a farm of your own. However half of the products will have to be stored away as preparation for the coming winter.”

With that Siddgeir stopped and looked around. The people were both disgruntled that they had to do all the work and pleased they would receive such a boon. To make them even more accepting of his decision the Jarl did what he never thought he will. He grabbed an axe and went to the nearest tree and began chopping it down.

Soon more of his fellow Nords joined him in his toil. Work went slowly, however, and by nightfall, they had only cleared enough space for maybe half a farm. Still, everyone was in high spirits after they witnessed their Jarl doing his fair share of the work.

As the air cooled and the Torchbugs started buzzing around Siddgeir finally called the work to a stop. Once inside his home, he resumed his pacing from this morning. They would need perhaps a month to secure enough space for ten new farms, but what was he going to order them to plant there? During the siege, wheat and cabbages would go a long way. There couldn’t be any livestock. This was not the tundra of Whiterun where one could have unlimited space for animals. And not to mention they would be eaten first and were harder to use for rations. Potatoes could also be edible even a couple of months after the harvest, but his people couldn’t live off greens alone.

He needed a new source of meat for them, perhaps he really should dedicate a farm or two to animals, main goats for their milk. He shuddered at the thought of what would happen if someone gave birth in these troubled times and there was no milk for the young babe to be found. His people would surely tear him to pieces and surrender the town.

He also needed to decide how to best integrate the bandits he would invite to his hold’s capital. Falkreath had a tightly knit community. His people were honest folk. They might see it as a betrayal to everything they held dear. What else was he supposed to do? He needed an army and the bandits were at least trained. He was well aware that some of them might betray him to the Stormcloacks, but if he acted smartly the riff-raff could become his greatest asset.

As for the walls he had decided that he would raise three layers. One that hugged the town’s borders with enough space to put pikes on the ground between that layer of protection and the next. He played with the thought of making a maze before the last section. With much luck and the gates being as far away from each other as possible, he could maybe push a couple waves of the invading army.

He stopped his pacing and sat on his throne. His two forts, his best defenses apart from Helgen were falling apart and overrun by bandits. If he could only make a deal with the bandits for them to protect the forts he could focus on fortifying his seat of power. With these last thoughts, he went to bed early, knowing that tomorrow he would need to labor just like every man, woman, and child in his hold, lest he is faced with a revolt.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. It had taken the people of Falkreath more than the planned month to clear enough space for the farms. With seeds provided from the Corpslight farm, the people began their toil. This time Siddgeir didn’t participate. His hands were covered in blisters from all the hacking he had done. Instead, he ordered all the excess wood to be delivered to the sawmill and prepared to be made into scorpions and stone towers.

The problem with this was that he had no idea how to make eighter of them. He had sent a message to General Tullius asking for legion blacksmiths to come to his hold and show his people how to assemble such weapons. The General, however, had brushed him off, stating in his letter that the Empire will protect Falkreath and Siddgeir had to have more trust in it.

That had left Siddgeir scrambling for clues on how to make even the simplest war machine to no avail.

And it was on another sunny day that the Dragonborn finally returned. The man looked a little wary, understandably so as he had come to a new unfamiliar place. While he was away ten new farms, reach with wheat fields, with little green spots made up from potatoes and cabbages, had sprung up seemingly from the forest. The people looked tired but somewhat happier. What is more there were wagons filled with stone outside each gate.

Nathaniel made his way to the Longhouse and what he saw inside surprised him even more. The Jarl was still seated on his throne but instead of seeming absent-minded like he had before he was actually listening to petitions. People, young and old, were lined up in a proper queue and were speaking their grievances and the Nord was actually listening to them.

The Breton took his place at the end of the line and waited patiently for his turn. He listened with one ear to what the pleas of the people were. They all wanted to own one of the new farms. Yet the Jarl gave farms only to those who could tend to them. One by one the people started to head to their homes and finally, it was Nathaniel’s turn. The Breton cleared his throat and approached the Jarl.

“The bandits are all dead, Jarl. Do you have any more work for me?”

Siddgeir looked thoughtfully at the Breton. Then a thought struck him and he spoke without thinking.

“Do you know how to build a scorpion?”

Nathaniel blinked once then just stared at the other man. He might be a blacksmith, but his knowledge ended with armor and weapons. No one had ever asked him to make a siege engine. He supposed he could always learn how to make one if he were ever to find the proper book but as of now, there was only one answer he could give.

“No, my Jarl. I could, however, ask some other smiths if they can teach me the craft.”

Siddgeir smiled so wide he could have been mistaken for a slaughter fish. He stood up from his throne and went to go and exit the Longhouse. When he noticed that Nathaniel wasn’t following he turned around and raised an eyebrow. That got the Breton moving. They traveled in silence until they were outside of the town gates and any eavesdropping town’s folk.

“You have traveled in my entire hold and know it well. Tell me then, Dragonborn, how would you strengthen it?”

The Dragonborn stopped abruptly and just stared at the Jarl in front of him. Was this really happening? His opinion was being asked by someone who should know all about such things beforehand. And yet here they both were and the question seemed sincere enough.

“Well, I would clear the bandits who are infesting the hold. And I would build sturdier stone walls, but I guess you have already thought of that, my Jarl.”

Siddgeir waved a hand dismissively. There was something else to be done that the Dragonborn could think of, surely!

“And I would repair the keeps. Cracked Tusk Keep could withstand a siege if repaired a little and Fort Neugrad would need sturdy iron gates, the barricades were no trouble for me when I spotted bandits inside.”

Satisfied with the answer Siddgeir clapped his hands together and grinned again.

“I don’t suppose you would clean these keeps for me, Dragonborn? But you must act in haste, I can’t spend another three months waiting for you!”

Nathaniel lowered his head sheepishly. It wasn’t like he had wanted to come back so late from the job! It just happened. He couldn’t just postpone announcing that there was a Dragon on the loose. And after that, he had to recover from his broken hand that he hurt during his battle with the beast. Now that the Jarl was offering him more jobs he couldn’t just pass them by.

“I will do as you bit, my Jarl.” Was his simple response.

“Good, go first to Fort Neugrad. I want no bandits alive. I gave them a chance to join my army, but they refused. Maybe after you are done with them some bandits will see them fully in their ways and will take me up on the offer.”

As he watched the mercenary leave Siddgeir realized he had forgotten to tell him of the new empty seat for Thaneship. Oh, well. He had walls to build. With that thought, he came back to the builders and with a sight started helping them dig the foundations. As he had found out, back during the deforestation of the surroundings, as long as he also helped in the work the people were merrier.

By the time the Breton came back, it was already sunset. He had obviously rushed back as soon as he had done the job. Covered in gore and with a cut on his arm as he were but looking mostly unharmed. Without a moment’s hesitation, the man took a shovel and started helping everyone with the digging. Siddgeir couldn’t help but approve of this action. After all, if he was not too good to dig then neither was the Dragonborn.

When night fell Siddgeir finally told the laborers to go and take a break for the day. It was only the two of them, the Jarl and the Dragonborn, left at the site. After reassuring Siddgeir that he had cleared the Fort the Dragonborn asked if there was more work to be done. And that surprised Siddgeir truly. Any other mercenary would have asked for payment before asking this question and yet here Nathaniel was, offering the assistance of his own free will and without any concern for profit.

It was truly strange for the Jarl to know such a man. He was tempted to make use of Breton’s offer but then he reconsidered. The man needed to tend to his wound and he needed rest. Siddgeir knew well enough how hard it must have been for a single man to take the bandits in Fort Neugrad down. So instead he paid the other man and marched him to the tavern so he could have something to eat and a place to stay.

Dead Man’s Drink was breaming with customers, tired of the long day of digging. Once the two men entered the inn a loud cheer exploded all around them, the people happy to see their recently hard-working Jarl amoung them. Siddgeir receives more slaps on his back in that night that he did in his whole life and he couldn’t lie, he did enjoy the attention. No one used to greet him like this after hunts but now everyone was happy to see him because he worked side by side with his subjects.

He accepted the attention with grace and moved to ensure a room for the mercenary next to him. After a bit of haggling, he managed to arrange one for ten septims. Siddgeir left the Breton to his own devices and went to his own home. It had been a long day and he was tired.

The next few days proceeded much like that one. Get up, go to the dig sites, help the people as best as he could. No bandits came to his aid and that made him weary. It meant that he had to use his own people to man the forts. Then there was the question of Nathaniel. The Breton had remained in Falkreath and had insisted to help with the digging. That also had the effect of making him popular with the townsfolk who were happy that their Jarl had gotten even the legendary Dragonborn to help them build their fortification.

Siddgeir didn’t know how to go about stopping the other man so he left everything alone. The two of them settled into a routine after that. They will both go and work alongside everyone else, greet each other if they meet and later the Jarl would escort the Dragonborn to the tavern, even though the other man had long since booked the room he stayed in for an entire month.

Unfortunately, the walls were not all Siddgeir had to tend to. He developed the habit of asking the strange Breton what his guards lacked and Nathaniel never failed to point out a weakness. Their weapons were made of iron, even though Falkreath had a smith who in turn had an apprentice. Their gambesons looked thin and certainly incapable of stopping an arrow or a blade.

Then there was the very glaring lack of traps in the sections between the three-layered wall Siddgeir was trying to build. Simple wooden pikes would be good for the first wave, but the second and third would easily deal with them. Falkreath had no barn for the newly produced goods from the ten farms and the water supply of the whole town was too easy to contaminate.

At first, Siddgeir was a little annoyed. What could this white-haired yellow-eyed Breton know about sieging a city? But then the Breton looked like he had been a mercenary for a very long time. And he did have a point. Armor and arms would be easy to get his hands on, but the water was a serious problem he had no idea how to tackle.

Perhaps there could be a spell to be found to clear the water as soon as it's poisoned but he was no mage. Nathaniel could become one, but the Breton was more interested in helping build the walls around Falkreath than to continue his wandering. Siddgeir had asked the man why he lingers so once and the Breton had responded with.

“You are the only Jarl who is taking this war seriously. You are trying to protect your people. I can respect that.”

Siddgeir wondered on more than one occasion what could the Dragonborn’s opinion be if he was to ever find out that he was the one who gave the Nord a waking call. Weeks passed and the shipments of stone were finally being put to good use as the inner wall rouse to cover Falkreath from view. Instead of the wooden spikes that were originally planed iron spikes were used and around them ran water from the nearby stream, making them slippery.

Along the top of the wall, there were archer guards and spots where boiling water could easily be thrown down the attackers. And it would have to be just water as oil was expensive even in Falkreath as its shipments were halted. The crowning achievement was an iron gate where there stood a wooden one not two moons ago. It was during their conversations on how best to defend the town that the Dragonborn had said that battling rams won’t be able to penetrate a solid iron gate. When Siddgeir had said he would have to purchase the iron for it and it would be too costly Nathaniel had told him to wait a little bit and ran off into the wilderness. He came back soon enough lugging a giant sack of ore with him. Apparently, he had an enchanted bag where he kept all his horde and that included ores of all kinds.

When Siddgeir had been reluctant to accept them the Dragonborn had simply waved him off and asked if he should carry them to the blacksmith or leave them somewhere else. It was good to see the Breton smile, Siddgeir thought to himself. It suited him better than the frowns he usually wore. With his donation to the cause Falkreath now at least looked like a settlement that could be defended.

It wasn’t just ore that the mercenary gave. He also started helping the blacksmith at the forge in outfitting the guards while Siddgeir continued to oversee the completion of the other two layers of his great wall. The Harvest came and went and while it all felt calm now the people were grateful that their Jarl was leading them to start on the third layer of the wall. Bandit attacks on the town also became fewer as the wall proved its effectiveness against them and the vampires who tried to sneak in during the nights. The three gates stayed locked during the night, even though the third was protecting a yet unfinished wall.

Bolstered by his success Siddgeir threw himself into securing trade for his hold. If the city was besieged by all sides he needed an escape route to the now repaired and fortified Fort Neugrad for the women, children and the elderly. General Tullius had demanded he gave up the Fort for Imperial use but Siddgeir had refused. The general had refused to give him information on how to build scorpions with which he could protect his gates so he didn’t see any reason to hand over the product of his hard labor.

As well as making his people learn the route to the Fort even in the dark he had made sure a good portion of the stored food be placed there so if his people were to become refugees they wouldn’t be starving ones.

But when it was time to prepare people for the mock evacuations he was surprised at how many choose to stay and refused to even be slain into abandoning his town. He felt touched by this. It was heartening to know that his people wouldn’t shatter so easily. Still, to put his mind to rest, he had those who refused to participate in the evacuations attend training with his guards and he made sure they were outfitted as such.

Without him noticing the Dragonborn drew restless. He would come and go, as was his custom. But he would always return, sometimes harmed, sometimes not. But it had taken weeks for him to come back. The last time he had come he was nervous and then a rumor started spreading that Nathaniel had dealings with the Dark Brotherhood. The night he came back was a stormy one. Lightning flashing in the skies as rain mercilessly pelted everyone who dared venture outside. When Siddgeir came home, from his now customary evening inspection of the guard, he was greeted by the sight of Nathaniel with blood on his hands and a parchment clutched in them.

“The Emperor tried to sell us out to the Thalmor.” He began, his voice quivering. “So there is Emperor no more.”

Siddgeir gently removed the parchment and read the content. If it wasn’t a forgery then everything he had done to strengthen his hold was for naught. The Emperor cared only about himself. About his own wealth. Just like Siddgeir had before his talk with the Dragonborn. But Siddgeir had chanced for his people and by them, even if in the beginning he had only thought of how much he wanted to protect his position as Jarl.

Without a word he took a nearby water basin and went to clean the Breton’s hands.

“I’m a member of the Dark Brotherhood.” Said Nathaniel, now staring right into the Jarl’s eyes.

“I see.” Was the only reply as Siddgeir scrubbed the hands off the blood of the treacherous Emperor off his friend.

“What I did is high treason.” Came the reply, almost as if the Breton wanted for Siddgeir to yell at him.

“I see” repeated the Jarl.

“I’ve decided to join the Stormcloacks.” There was a finality to the voice as well as deep regret.

“So we are rebels now.” Replied Siddgeir.

At once yellow eyes shot up and were met by calm blue eyes.

“We…?” came the whispered question.

“Yes, we. Or do you think I want Thalmor rule here in my hold?”

Nathaniel bowed his head again. This was all his fault. If only he hadn’t joined the Dark Brotherhood he would have been blissfully ignorant, chasing Dragons around exploring caves and ruins. Now he was dragged into politics and war. Before he had the chance to wallow even more in self-pity Siddgeir spoke again.

“I will have to negotiate with Jarl Ulfric. He would want a steep price for me to pay for not joining him right away, hopefully, this contract you brought me will be enough of a propaganda fuel and cover most of his demands. If not I will be having even fewer guards than normally. Good thing I never contributed with any souldiers to the legion, or it would have been a war where sons of Falkreath killed one another. Not that it won’t be brother against brother even now. This is a right mess you got us into.”

As he finished the conversation so did he finished cleaning Nathaniel’s hands. He took a nearby towel and dried them off.

“You are in shock. Stay here tonight.” Said the Jarl.

“I believed in him, you know. I believed in the Empire. I avoided the Stormcloacks as much as possible and yet the Emperor…”

With a heavy sight, Siddgeir all but dragged Nathaniel to the bed and cuddled into the Breton.

“It was good you discovered this when you did. Sleep now, you need it. You can tell me more about the Dark Brotherhood business later. We are going to have to go to Windhelm and swear fealty to Jarl Ulfric, Nine preserve us. We are truly rebels now.”

With that silence reigned in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning they planned their trip to Windhelm. Leaving his Housecarl in charge of the defense was something Siddgeir did reluctantly. The man was known of saying he served the Jarl, whomever that might be. Till there was no one else he could entrust with the task. The Jarl and the Dragonborn sneaked during the night and headed for the mountain pass to avoid going to Whiterun and taking a carriage.

With the note that exposed the Emperor’s plan, they made their way through the passage and reached the Rift within the same day. The two of them had promptly taken a carriage once at Riften’s gates without bothering to enter the town. It was a good thing that Siddgeir wore a hooded cloak, else he might have been recognized and taken captive because of his alliances.

The carriage ride was calm and mostly uneventful. They did have to stop for a while as a sabercat attacked the horses, but it was nothing a well-aimed fireball couldn’t fix. As they finally arrived at their destination it was getting quite dark. Instead of staying in the local tavern as Nathaniel suggested they went straight to the Palace of Kings as per Siddgeir’s reasoning that they should get everything over it as fast as possible. He did have a town to defend, after all.

Entering the building was surprisingly easy. The guards didn’t even spare them a glance. The two of them spotted Jarl Ulfric Stormcloack seated on his throne, speaking with his trusted general Galmar Stone-Fist. It was all so very patriotic, a great show for those that came in. As if it was repeated and rehearsed for someone and Siddgeir could very well guess who that someone was.

It was no great secret that both general Tullius and Jarl Ulfric were sending recruiters after the Dragonborn. It was weird that he was the one to deliver Nathaniel to one of the sides of this war himself. But what was he supposed to do? The Emperor had sold Skyrim and Jarl Ulfric, for all his greed and ambition, was the only choice left for those who didn’t wish the Thalmor to stalk their settlements.

Siddgeir pulled his hood down and approached the throne slowly. He saw Nathaniel doing the same. The Breton still looked dejected that he had to be here. There was nothing to be done. For his crime of murdering the Emperor, he had no choice, with or without the contract that came to light.

Stormcloack recognized both of them and stopped his rehearsed speech to stare at them. The Nord might have expected Nathaniel to come at some time but Siddgeir had been vocal with his opinions on the Stormcloacks. Not that he still didn’t think they were valid. He just had to ignore the bile rising in his throat at the sight of the would-be Usurper and pray that he won’t be treated like the Forsworn.

The walk towards the other Jarl finally came to an end. Ulfric was sitting straighter now but remained silent. Galmar moved as if to intercept Siddgeir but was stopped by a wave of the hand of the future High King. Knowing that he would at least be heard gave Siddgeir some courage. With much reluctance, he knew before the throne and bowed his head. If that didn’t serve to convince Stormcloak that he was here as a loyal subject he didn’t know what will.

Though his head was bowed he noticed that Nathaniel wasn’t following his lead. This had the potential of angering the rebel leader. As he feared that they might end up in the dungeons after all Stormcloack got off his throne and helped him stand. Without a word, he started walking to what Siddgeir thought was the man’s war room. And his guess had been right. The room might be small but it had a map with all the forts and keeps in Skyrim. As Ulfric took his place around the table he became the two newcomers to do the same.

“I am surprised to see you here, Jarl Siddgeir. I half thought that the sons and daughters of Falkreath thought themselves Imperials. Do tell me why you choose to fight the good fight.”

That was all the prompting Siddgeir needed to take out the treacherous document of the late Emperor and hand it over. As he read Jarl Ulfric’s brows furrowed more and more in anger. Finally, he slammed the parchment on the table and roared.

“So it's not enough that they take our God, but now our land is also forfeit to them? I will kill the damned Mede for this!”

“Its a bit late for that.” Whispered Nataniel quietly. “He is already dead, not that it makes the contract any less valid.”

Stormcloack’s rage at the last statement was clear to see. He had almost no progress since the war started. With the Empire’s forces being better equipped and trained than his own Nords. The skirmishes were getting more violent and if it wasn’t for the old Imperial legionaries he wouldn’t have any commanders. And now this? He hadn’t even ripped a victory in the Civil War and now he had to fight the Dominion as well.

He had suspected something like this might happen. But not on this scale. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that the Emperor would serve Skyrim on a platter. He regarded the two men in front of him. He had wanted the Dragonborn to join his forces as a morale booster. And now he would need much more than even him to win this war. He shouldn’t have waited so long to start the war seriously, he knew that now.

And Siddgeir, well he had heard that the man was a layabout that only cared about feasts and hunts. But recently there had been rumors of the man fortifying his town and even increasing his stores of food and other necessities. If this wasn’t a trap and if Siddgeir’s previous display was any indicator of the man’s new loyalty to the cause then he could use another hold on his side. With a sigh, he turned to his new allies.

“This will have to become a known fact to the other Jarls. The war has to begin in earnest now. Dragonborn, speak with Galmar, he has some tasks for you. As for you Siddgeir, I will demand men from your hold to fight in the war, the same as I demanded of the other Jarls.”

“It will be done,” said Siddgeir.

As much as he wanted to keep his men for his own town’s defense, especially now that Helgen was in ruins and couldn’t be garrisoned, he had to admit that he had gotten away with not being on Stormcloack’s side from the beginning.

After the meeting was done with Siddgeir and Nathaniel had been released to get rooms in the nearby tavern. The people there didn’t recognize them, fortunately. Mostly because Siddgeir had left his antler crown back at home and Nathaniel had avoided Windhelm like the plague. They were both given leeway to go back to Falkreath together, as Jarl Ulfric didn’t want his new allay to return home unescorted.

Their journey was as uneventful as the one before. Upon reaching the gates they were let in and after a short trip to the town square to speak about the new alliance of the hold and the people looked wary. It was understandable, as Falkreath was neighboring the Empire. Still, no one, not even Siddgeir’s uncle, raised their voice in opposition.

The day was still young when the Jarl and his newly made Thane parted ways with a promise to be careful. As he entered his Longhouse Siddgeir saw what was akin to an army of couriers waiting for him. Each pushing to get to him and deliver their letter.

The Jarl of Morthal was asking him if the Emperor was truly selling them to the Dominion. Jarl Laila was demanding he sends some of his builders as she too wanted to improve her defenses. The Jarl of Markarth was calling him a scoundrel and a layer and threatening to personally lead his men against Falkreath. Siddgeir just hummed at that. Jarl Igmund had his hands full with the barbaric Forsworn and was unlikely to raise his army against him. Still, that threat meant no more stone shipments from him and the third wall was yet to be completed. He would have to pull down the Roadside Ruin and the people might get insulted because of that.

With a heavy sigh, he sat on his throne and started thinking about possible improvements he could add to the hold. His blacksmith always complained that he didn’t have a smelter. He supposed he could commission one but the closest place he could do that from was Whiterun and Jarl Balgruuf had been strangely silent and closed off after copies of the contract had been sent out to all of the hold capitals.

And he still wanted Scorpions lining his walls. He supposed he could write the Windhelm’s blacksmith and if Jarl Ulfric could spare him he might just get his needed siege engines. Then there was the problem with the Imperial camp stationed at his doorstep. Now that he wasn’t allied with the Empire he just couldn’t allow such a great force near his gates. No, the camp had to be destroyed and leveled to the ground so no bandits could make use of it afterward.

That would mean he had to go into battle. He is a Jarl, one chosen for his youth and battle prowess that he had shown at the training yard. He knew he had it in him to lead armies, he just never needed to. He buried his face in his hands and exhaled. Today was as good of a day to put his skills to the test. If he was lucky the camp hadn’t moved from the east of Knifepoint Ridge.

With more confidence than he was currently feeling, he went and donned his leather armor. He had more ornate armors, but they were not for war and he felt best wearing that type of armor during hunts so he decided to use it now as well. The legionaries that they would be attacking had better training than his guards, but he knew the layout of the land better than them. If he spooked the horses first and set the tents on fire he could quite literally hunt them in the dark.

His musings were interrupted when people barged in and started to talk over each other. Amid the commotion, he found out that Runil, the Priest of Arkey, has been murdered. He had been gone nearly a day and now this was happening. This was bad for morale. And who was he going to replace the old elf with? Siddgeir nearly got up and started pacing again, there was no way he would show weakness in the face of his people. Worse yet the last person seen talking to the old elf was Nathaniel. The people still thought of him as an outsider and so were baying for his blood.

So Siddgeir stood up and went to investigate the matter himself. There was no sign of struggle. No scorched walls or anything he could see that suggested that Nathaniel was responsible. He would have to hold a trial regardless. What a mess this turned out to be. There was nothing he could do but wait. If he was lucky this won’t be used to alienate the Dragonborn from his side.

While he waited for the Dragonborn to return from his outing he set about to prepare for the eradication of the Empire camp. He would need his stealthiest guards, those he usually took with him on hunts. The skirmish, for a battle, was not something he would go into without any of his new allies, would have to be fast and brutal. Siddgeir already had an advantage in stopping the camp’s supply line. Normally the proper thing would be to wait for the snows and the hunger to settle in. But these were legionaries and zealots he would be facing and there was no telling what they might do when desperate.

No, time was a resource he didn’t have. He would either prove himself tonight or be captured or worse, become a head shorter. There was no way he could avoid acting now. He needed the loyalty of his people and there was nothing better than a victory to secure it.

As night fell Siddgeir double checked if his archers were positioned at Peak’s Shade Tower and the two bastions, which they had to clear during the day as they were infested with necromancers and vampires. The quiet of the nature around him unnerved him somewhat. His palm was sweaty and albeit he tried to keep himself and the others calm he could feel himself shaking a little.

The Moons were shining brightly in the sky as the Jarl finally reached his destination. Throwing caution to the wind he screamed “For Skyrim” and charged the camp’s command tent. He nooked and released arrows as fast as he could. He had met the man before. Had dined with him and exchanged vows to never betray the Empire. Except the Empire had betrayed him first and now he was merely doing what he could to protect his home.

Once the Legate fell panic reigned in the camp, anger made the legionaries forget their discipline and charge at Siddgeir. Without a second thought, the Jarl turned on his heel and ran towards the bastions. Entering the nearest one, and losing the occasional arrow.to make sure that he was being followed. Once inside he climbed the stairs and it wasn’t a moment too soon as he heard multiple arrows flying towards the entrance. The trap had sprung and the legionaries had to use their shields for cover.

The problem with that was that most of them didn’t have one. Most of them were wearing their civilian clothes even, as they had never expected to be attacked so close to Falkreath, believing that the Jarl was soft and would never act against them, a turncloack he might be, but a weak one. Siddgeir supposed he would never have the advantage of being underestimated as he did now. As he took out his sword to help protect the archers along with his regular guards he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

The morning found him still smiling at the triumph, amidst the ashes of the camp. Which was looted beforehand for anything of value. He might have many problems, but now at least a blade’s tip held to his throat wasn’t one.


	3. Chapter 3

Siddgeir didn’t have time to celebrate his victory. Upon arrival, he was informed that Jarl Balgruuf had moved his forces to the ruined Helgen. The young Jarl knew he would have done the same had their roles been reversed. Now his only access to his new allies was through the treacherous mountain pass between his hold and the Rift. This simply couldn’t stand. If Jarl Balgruuf didn’t believe in the document then war was their only option.

To add to his troubles Nathaniel had returned from Moss Mother Cavern with Runil’s journal and an injured hunter in toll. Only his new title as Thane had stopped the guards from throwing him in the dungeons. The Breton looked perfectly calm as he read from an old tattered book, sitting on a bench and whistling a tune. This was a good sign. It meant he might not have anything to do with the whole affair.

The young Jarl approached Nathaniel silently but as he was but a few steps near him the Breton got up from the bench and did a slight bow.

“I heard you had great success last night. Congratulations are in order.”

“Yes, well. I hear you got yourself into another mess while I was away. Please tell me you didn’t kill the priest.”

Nathaniel lowered his head at that.

“Of course not. He was a nobleman who repented for all his past mistakes. I was the one who found him, though. Your guards already charged me with the murder and I paid the fee.”

“You didn’t try to tell them you are one of my Thanes?” asked Siddgeir surprised. Anyone else would have used the opportunity the title provided to get out of trouble.

“No, that would have run your name through the dirt. I already got used to being blamed for murders, besides I know who it was.”

The Breton gave another heavy sign and tried to think about how best to explain this all to the Jarl. He had thought of lying in the beginning but that thought was soon dismissed. Jarl Siddgeir had been nothing but fair to him. Had trusted him enough that he had believed in the document he had brought him. No, the other man deserved better.

“Do you remember the night I came after the murder of the Emperor I came back wearing a black and red armor?”

“I do, what of it?”

“Well, that was my guild armor. I am a member of the Dark Brotherhood. The Listener.”

Siddgeir sat on the bench and stared emptily into nothingness. He was harboring an assassin. The death of the Emperor wasn’t an accident fueled by rage as he first thought, but a planned assassination! This meant that Nathaniel was going to kill the Emperor and bring everyone he knew down with him regardless of the plan to sell Skyrim to the Dominion. Heck, that had been a lucky coincidence!

“Who…” began Siddgeir slowly, his hands shaking with rage at the betrayal. “ killed the priest and why?”

“That would be Cicero. He is an Imperial. I didn’t want to take the contract but he found out about it and got the job done. Do you have any other questions?”

He did have more questions. He was now besieged on two fronts and all that because of an order of glorified murderers? How dare they bring him into this situation! It all made sense now. Why there had been Penitus Oculatus in the woods without his permission. Why Nathaniel was so calm. The man now was a Daedra worshiping cultist or a cultist to whatever Sithis was as the Jarl himself didn’t know. Why should the Breton care about the consequences of his actions or those who followed him when he could simply wash his hands claiming he was merely fulfilling the will of the God of the Void?

Then a thought had struck him. Nathaniel had come to him that night, still covered in the Emperor’s blood and looking calmer than someone who had done something so world-changing as he. A feeling of coldness washed over him as realization finally downed.

“When you came back, was it because of another contract?” ‘Was it to kill me’ he wanted to ask but felt he couldn’t.

“The Emperor tried to foist a contract on me just before I slit his thought. I told him I would consider it. I did fulfill the first part of it. But when I saw your reaction to his treachery I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. It's not the first time I declined a job, you know. Once I got an assignment to kill your Housecarl, but I killed a vampire couple living in a Sawmill instead.”

So Siddgeir had washed the hands of his would-be killer. The though threatened to make him unwell. The worse part was that Nataniel looked unaffected by the whole thing. As if Siddgeir should just be grateful that he was given the benefit of the doubt at all, instead of never being given the chance to wake. What was he going to do now? Were the assassins still in his hold? Those were no mare bandits he could bargain with! These were trained zealots that could leave and come back unnoticed, as proven by Runil’s murder.

“I need time to think. You need to leave Nathaniel. You need to leave now!”

The Breton pocketed the old book he was reading and bowed again.

“If you need me to come back just do the ritual and I will hear about it. Goodbye, my Jarl.”

With that, he exited the Longhouse and left Siddgeir by himself. There had to be something else he could think about. Like how to get Balgruuf out of Helgen and into the woods so he could ambush him all without leaving his town open for an invasion from the Reach. The way the two Jarls had positioned themselves he was between a hammer and an anvil. It just was hard to figure which one of the two men was.

If Balgruuf was the hammer, then Siddgeir was faced with the possibility of fighting Cavalry, as the tundra was an easy place to breed horses. He would need to train pikemen and build barricades. Towers with murder holes where he could position his archers. But he simply could not besiege Helgen on all sides. Not to mention that Helgen was built on high ground and even ruined as it was could still mean death to those who were battering its gates.

On the other hand, if Igmund was the hammer he would need to start building more towers around Falkreath, as most of the Reach’s army consisted of berserkers. Such warriors would make light of his guards, who were hunters more in truth than actual soldiers. No matter what he did though, one of the Jarls will attack him while the other would cut him off the other Stormcloack holds.

With that in mind, he stood up and made an order to his Stewert to gather all available men and women for training. He picked his sword and shield on the way. It would bolster the men’s morale if he was preparing along with them. And so he trained with his souldiers from sunrise until dawn and after the drills, he helped his people in the building of the new towers around Falkreath.

He hated to have to rush the drills, but he simply didn’t have time. His pikemen were half-trained but he was going to lead them himself and that should be enough for them not to break during the first charge of Balgruuf’s cavalry or even the second, hopefully. Of course it would be easier if he were to just make a contract on the other Jarl’s head. But no, he was not going to go crying to the Dragonborn to deal with his nemesis for him as the other Jarls did. And besides, the Breton was currently at Morthal leading skirmishes against the locals, or so Jarl Ulfric had told him.

Even though Stormcloack had told him not to attack he still felt like he should do something. There was no way he would just wait to be besieged!With that in mind, he sends a squad of his best hunters to wreak havoc in the outstrips of Helgen. They would surely break the supply lines if they were persistent enough. He sends his housecarl to lead them as he couldn’t justify leaving the town so soon again without a properly formed plan.

Regrettably, there was nothing he could do about Igmund for now. The man’s city was better fortified and the Jarl hadn’t given an order to march yet. Perhaps he would do so if Siddgeir was to ever leave Falkreath undefined to besiege Helgen, but the young Jarl was not going to make that mistake unless he becomes desperate.

Siddgeir ran his hand through his hair and sat on his throne. While he was sure he could weather a siege better now thanks to the new farms and the walls he wanted to bring the fighting to the two Jarls who thought so little of him they weren’t even attacking him straight on. They probably thought they could starve him into submitting to the Empire. And why shouldn’t they, when he had shown himself incompetent on so many occasions before?

And there was the problem with the fewer workers he could spare now that he had so many of them working on the farms. Unless he wanted to force children to construct the new watchtowers he was planning on having build he had to crack down on the bandits in the area. It was not like he could afford for them to give support to eighter Balgruuf or Igmund. With that thought in mind, he stood up gathered some guards and headed out to the nearest bandit infested ruin.

The place looked pitiful, a small watchtower reclaimed by nature. The people there didn’t offer much of a resistance. As he moved to the next infested den he wondered why he hadn’t this sooner. When the sunset he had the guards make camp with the promise they would be given parts of the loot from the old bandit outposts. Once the camp was set he allowed himself to relax and think about his current situation.

The man he was before he had begun to build the walls would have stolen away in the night with a sack of his belongings and no direction. But he couldn’t do that now. He liked the respect his people had began to show him. He had begun to care for their welfare. Because of that, he was going to reclaim every bandit infested tower from Falkreath and to the Reach and garrison his men there, even if it was the last thing he did!

It took him an entire week to do as he had planned but when he finally returned to Falkreath he felt a sense of accomplishment he hadn’t in a while. His stewart waited for him with news that she had put the non-fighting people in the town to work fletching new arrows and helping the blacksmith at the forge. Siddgeir had been surprised when he heard it was his uncle who supported the elf in these endeavors and rallied the people to their tasks.

It wasn’t as if his uncle approved of him. Siddgeir had taken his throne from him. But even old Dengeir loved Falkreath enough to set aside his quarrel with his nephew. That left Siddgeir with a little time to think and listen to petitions, something he had started to do more of late.

Most people were falling over themselves offering help and arguing their right to be in the main army. The fact he didn’t have an army and he mostly led skirmishes had escaped them. Others demanded that he called back the Dragonborn as an additional protection for the town. On this Siddgeir couldn’t agree, no matter what arguments people presented him with. Even if he was a rebel now, and his life had been judged worth saving, he couldn’t in good conscious allow a cold-blooded killer to wander among his people. Even your average bandit had more compassion in them than dedicated assassins.

And so, after not being able to argue with his people, he dismissed the court, went to his room and flopped on the bed and screamed in the pillow. Was he not enough to protect his hold that the people wanted the Dragonborn to return? He had done his best! There were stores in the newly build a granary to last the town at least two months if rationing was enforced as soon as trouble started. He had garrisoned every Bandit ruin from Falkreath to the Reach! He even went as far as to attempt to negotiate with Jarl Balgruuf and had sent him the real bloodstained document. Not that had helped any, with the Jarl now accusing him of sending off forgeries to save his skin.

What did people think? That he could call the Dragonborn and suddenly everything would be sunshine and rainbows? The man left burned half-collapsed ruins whenever he went. That was the reason Stormcloack had to send him to Morthal and not, let's say to Solitude. There simply was not much to destroy there! Not to mention that the man was a magnet for dragons. The last thing he needed was for a giant lizard to come and scorch the place. Even then he had to admit he preferred the giant lizards to Nathaniel’s guildmates.

He had not told his people of the connection between the Black Brotherhood and their “hero”. Had he done so he would be forced to bar the man from his hold for good? Else he might use the lax security to fulfill his contracts easier. And he didn’t want to do that, nine preserve him. Siddgeir wanted to see the man again. Maybe after the Breton had realized that being a killer for hire was not something he should be.

Granted, even without the whole guild business, Nathaniel had been a killer for hire. But his kills were done only for the good of others. There was nothing descend about making murder into a religious practice. Before he knew what he was doing he had parchment and a quill in his hands and he was pouring out ranting. He let it all out. The disappointment in the tarnished heroic image. The hurt that the Breton had even considered murdering him when he had swiped the life of his Housecarl for another’s so carelessly. The fury that he hadn’t bothered with peace talks with the Jarl of Morthal before he put her town to the torch. But most of all the disgust that the man was following Stormcloack so blindly as if he couldn’t see that the Jarl wanted him to win his war for him.

Siddgeir put his seal on the letter and summoned a courier to deliver it. He had things to do and even if he didn’t receive a reply he at least tried to show Nathaniel some sense.


	4. Chapter 4

Instead of a letter back, Siddgeir received the head of Jarl Igmund on a literal silver platter. His lute was gone. It was funny how in his shocked state he could notice something so irrelevant and yet he did. Nathaniel had just plunged the Reach in chaos and all Siddgeir could think of was that the Breton had made off with his priced lute. It had been made especially for him, the lute had cost him a thousand septims. Sure, he couldn’t play it very well, but it was his. Nathaniel had played it for him on a few occasions during the construction of the most inner wall. The wall he builds with the stone from the dead Jarl.

Siddgeir pinched himself. The lute was still gone and the head was still there. On the plater, there was a little note. Shakingly the Jarl stood from his bed and took the note, it was wet with blood, but still readable.

‘I heard you were having trouble so I paid the trouble a visit. How do you feel about the other trouble? Should I pay Helgen a visit?’

‘PS: I am sorry if I upset you with my actions, my Jarl.’

Siddgeir felt his knees give out under him. Igmund had been somewhat of a friend, despite his threats. Jarl Igmund would have besieged him for sure, but he would have also offered him turms, for old times sake. Not that Siddgeir would have accepted them but still. And now there wouldn’t be a chance to reason with the man anymore and the grasping Silver-Bloods will deliver Markarth to Stormcloack on a silver platter.

This should make him happy. He wasn’t going to be attacked from the Reach anymore. But the Silver-Bloods were well known for their money-grabbing ways. Reach would have an increase in taxes or he wasn’t a Jarl. More Bretons will escape to the mountains to play Forsworn and the Reach will face famine and devastation. All because he had ranted in a letter. He hadn’t even said anything about his fears of being besieged on two fronts.

He supposed Jarl Ulfric had informed Nathaniel and the Breton had done the deed as some sort of a parody of a gift. Siddgeir once more thought that there was something very wrong with the Dragonborn. The way he didn’t have any visible signs of regret like some mercenaries or even bandits do. Or the way he could appear calm when he was in shock himself, just like during the night of the Emperor’s death. It was a good thing, he supposed, that the man could even feel shocked over anything.

Siddgeir very much doubted that the assassination of Jarl Igmund was a result of an order given by Jarl Ulfric, or even a ritual made and accepted. No, he had ranted and Nathaniel had searched for the clearest reason behind the Jarl’s distress and had dealt with it the only way he knew how.

This couldn’t stand. Someone had to reign in the Dragonborn before he did something worse! What would Jarl Balgruuf think now that Igmund was dead? Would he attack or would he try to appeal to Nathaniel’s sense of duty? The Breton was also a Thane of Whiterun. Then again that was also the case for the Reach and the title hadn’t stopped the assassin from doing his job. Something had to be done. Nathaniel seemed to be listening to him and Stormcloack but he was still prone to acting out without being given orders.

And so Siddgeir dressed hurriedly and went in search of the Dragonborn. It was not Nathaniel’s way to visit and then leave without speaking with him. It has never happened and he would wagger his antler crown that the other man was somewhere close by. After a little searching, he found him in the tavern, surrounded by happy townfolk and playing the stolen lute. The Jarl waited patiently for the song to end and then he made his way through the crowd, grabbed Nathaniel by the hand and dragged him back to the Longhouse.

“I think you should understand that some things are not done, not even in war!”

He began, as Nathaniel opened his mouth to protest the Jarl raised his hand in the air to demand silence.

“You can’t just wreak havoc whenever you go! We won’t be at war forever! People who act like you do get prosecuted during peacetime! You understand that, surely?”

With that Siddgeir lowered his hand and waited for an answer. Nathaniel opened his mouth again to speak but closed it just as fast. When he finally spoke it was with little uncertainty.

“I am a mercenary. I have been a mercenary ever since I learned the Fireball spell and the Fast Healing spell. Killing is how I solve my problems. You knew that when you hired me to deal with those Bandits the first time and you must have also known there would be a response to your letter. Are you not happy?”

Siddgeir simply gaped. This was not how the general mercenary thought. This reckless killing was the sign of an unfeeling assassin!

“You just wreck an entire hold over a letter! And after that, you simply went to entertain people in a tavern with a stolen lute! Why can’t you understand that not everyone will welcome your actions with applause?”

“That hold was in the hands of an enemy. And your letter was as good as a ritual. I had thought you wanted the problem solved. Or are you mad at me for not clearing Helgen first?”

He genuinely didn’t understand what was the cause of Siddgeir’s anger. The realization hit the Jarl like a rampaging Mammoth. The Dragonborn, the hero of legends, had no moral compass to speak of. It was distressing to think about what could go wrong with him being given access to all the holds of Skyrim, regardless of their allegiance in the war.

Nathaniel couldn’t be allowed free reign like that. He needed someone to tell him right from wrong. Siddgeir only hoped that Jarl Ulfric hadn’t caught up on this fact yet, else he would be hearing about torched towns. Or maybe there were torched towns in Nathaniel’s wake already. For the Breton had been tasked with subduing Morthal and if he could be here in Falkreath now, relaxed and speaking with Siddgeir, then what had become of the poor town?

“Tell me and speak true. What did you do in Morthal? Why are you here when you were ordered to be there?”

Nathaniel smiled brightly at the question, which served to alleviate some of Siddgeir’s worries.

“They had a bit of a vampire problem there. I was going to lead skirmishes at first but decided to deal with the bloodsuckers instead. Jarl Ingrod was much more open to negotiations after that and so an attack on the town wasn’t required. But you didn’t answer my question. Do I need to pay Helgen a visit? Or do you want to attack it yourself?”

Siddgeir let a sigh of relief at that. Jarl Ingrod was a capable one. Her magic gift had saved Morthal time and time again. Sure, she was no battlemage, but sometimes she could predict bandit rades and warn her guards. It was good that Nathaniel had spared the town, another former Imperial Jarl to add to the rebel cause would shake the beliefs of the last two Jarls. Maybe even Elisif would support their cause and she might even guarantee the continued operation of the East Empire Trading Company.

Solitude had to be taken over as smoothly as possible least commerce suffers and hunger sets in. It was not like the Nords could only relay on Khajiits and their caravans.

“Good, good. No, I don’t want Balgruuf dead. He is a reasonable man, albeit prone to fits of anger. The two of us have to go and convince him to stop threatening to use his cavalry against Falkreath. Even though the forests surrounding my hold would make it harder for him I don’t want any more bloodshed!”

The other man hmed and sat down on a nearby chair.

“I already tried sending him a letter, he doesn’t want to believe that the Emperor would ever do what he was accused of. Maybe if I let the man alive long enough to be set on trial before the Jarls we wouldn’t be facing such troubles now. But he had to die quickly, least the Dominion spirited him to safety.”

That was the trouble with it all. The civil war really could have ended if Nathaniel had simply restrained himself for a change.

“And what was the real reason you wanted to kill the Emperor for in the first place?”

“He killed my friends. Scorched down our home and disrespected our Mother.”

Siddgeir looked stunned at the last bit. Was Nathaniel a true believer of Sithis? This “Mother” could only be the night mother of legends. And if that was true then he had had assassins in his hold for Talos knew how long. He wanted to ask so many questions. Such as where was the new hideout of the assassins. If Nathaniel was the new leader what was he going to do when eventually someone placed a contract on a person he knew…except Siddgeir had already done that, hadn’t he? And the answer was still laying on a plater, blood pooling around it.

Instead of antagonizing the zealot further he decided to try and talk him into coming to a peaceful parley he was hoping he would arrange. Even though Jarl Ulfric had written to him that he had exchanged axes with Jarl Balgruuf and there was going to be a war for certain he still wanted to try and prevent it. If Nathaniel was allowed to do as he pleased, then why not him? There had to be perks of being a Jarl these days!

The two of them sat around the small table in Siddgeir’s quarters and started writing the letter. The Jarl omitted the casual threats the Dragonborn wanted to include. No, as far as he was concerned telling Balgruuf how Igmund had been beheaded in detail was not going to help the war effort any and he had told the white-haired man off for it. He didn’t want to know how painful the last moments of his friend’s life were.

By the time he was finally finished with the letter Nathaniel had gotten bored and had taken out his stolen lute to lazily play a couple of tunes. It was distracting how relaxed the man was. Heck, he might even think the lute a payment for the now stinking head. He needed to arrange a proper burial for it. Then he remembered that one of his Thane’s new buddies had killed his Priest of Arkay.

“Shouldn’t you be hunting dragons rather than loitering here?”

Nathaniel stopped and smiled. The way he did he could almost pass for an innocent person who would never harm a fly, let alone assassinate people in cold blood.

“If one comes here I will dispatch it, don’t worry. When are we meeting Balgruuf?”

“As soon as he agrees to respond to the letter. Or as soon as Jarl Ulfric forces us to attack him. Whichever comes first. Now I want you to get Igmund’s head to the Hall of the dead and cremated. This is your mess and you have to deal with it, am I clear?”

“As you say. May I return after or should I head back to the tavern?”

Siddgeir was neither blind nor obvious. The man was infatuated with him. While he had let him into his bed that night because he thought the Breton was in shock could have meant something entirely different to Nathaniel. Could he allow himself to engage this man? As flawed as he was Nathaniel was a dangerous man who cared a lot about obtaining power. He had only assumed political power was not something he was after. Or maybe Siddgeir was overthinking things and being too cautious. Where could the harm be with him being with the Dragonborn? His people would only love him more for it. And he would have the loyalty of someone powerful enough to slay a dragon by himself. Now that Siddgeir thought about it perhaps he hadn’t changed all that much from his old self and it wasn’t Nathaniel but rather he who dreamt of power.

“You can return if that is really what you want.”

And in the dark, as they lay together with Nathaniel safely laying on Siddgeir’s chest, soundly asleep the Jarl ran his fingers through white locks of hair, dreaming of a moot and a crown.


	5. Chapter 5

The walls of Helgen stood tall above them. The three men were seated on a round table. Two Jarls and a Thane, a traitor for one and loyal to the other. Balgruuf didn’t like his chances with the Dragonborn present. The man had been the instrument in this new development in the war. With obvious alliance and a one-track mind Nathaniel had proven time and time again he did what he wanted and if the said deed was good for those around him then so be it.

Siddgeir had come without an army but was already besieging the town with the Dragonborn’s presence alone. Balgruuf hadn’t liked accepting Imperial gold and forsaking Talos. He was not happy fighting his fellow Nords but at least he kept on fighting for the Empire’s unity. And Siddgeir…the man had a strange glint in his eyes. As if he had caught on the fact that he had the strongest army sitting right by him. And that scared Balgruuf. He had used the Dragonborn to clear forts and Giant lager himself and how different was Helgen, half-destroyed and lightly manned, to them?

Should Siddgeir give the order Balgruuf was certain that Nathaniel will sweep Helgen clean of its defenders. No, once again it was time for tough choices. Choices that would taste like bile in his mouth as he remembered them in the dead of night. Should he surrender now only Solitude would be left standing, surrounded by its enemies. Once again there will not be justice for the wronged. No mercy showed to the losers of the war. And he damned well knew that if he was to surrender now Solitude would be reduced to rubble because of the stubbornness of General Tullius and the ambition of Ulfric Stormcloack.

The more they negotiated the terms of his surrender the more he wanted to try his and his garrison’s luck against his former Thane. Former, for he couldn’t welcome such a turn cloak in his court. Not that the Dragonborn would care. As long as he had the attention of the young and handsome Jarl of Falkreath the man would probably not care about the consequences of any of his actions. If only he had known that that was the price of the “hero’s” loyalty he might have…But no, the time for that was passed.

There was nothing to be done. Balgruuf gritted his teeth and conceded to supplying Falkreath with some of his best horses and to support Ulfric Stormcloack in the war. The only thing that gave him comfort was that the ever grasping Siddgeir’s ambitions might cheat Stormcloack of his throne. For all the chaos the Nord had wrought from his seat of Windhelm without even leading his troops himself he deserved it.

He signed a pre-made contract and wished the two men in front of them luck in the war. He secretly wished the Thalmor more luck with killing them, but he dared not voice such a thing, least he ended up like poor Igmund. As he watched them ride off back to Falkreath on two of their newly acquired steeds he gave the command for the garrison to go back to Whiterun.

Siddgeir was in a good mood after the negotiations. He had received everything he wanted out of them and Jarl Balgruuf had dared not object on any of the contract’s points. He was happy he now had the means to have more beasts of burden to help fortify his hold. Maybe Balgruuf would be appalled when he heard that his prized war horses were used in the building of new fortifications but that wasn’t important right now.

He was sure to sell some of them to the other allayed holds to bolster his treasury. He needed more septims if he was to find a way to enhance trade without destroying Flakreath’s forest. And that gave him no peace at night. He had grown up hunting in them and didn’t want to lose them. Besides he didn’t want for the earth to become brittle like it was in the Reach. Now that he was no longer besieged he could think about increasing the livestock in the hold.

With the money from the horses, he could surely get some cattle from Whiterun. It was almost funny how Balgruuf would be the one actually paying for them. Cattle would help with milk and cheese trade and their hides could also provide fur and leather. He could also invest in some pigs. As long as he builds them pens in near the town he wouldn’t have to worry about wolves. Of course, he could also plant fruit trees! But only close by the town, so that there was plenty of space for deers and elks to roam his hold. And once his town grew big enough and his people too many to be housed in it he could start building villages to support Falkreath! Fishing and herding ones, with people having jobs and paying their taxes on time! Producing food for the colder holds of Skyrim. Yes, his hold will be to Skyrim what once was the Empire and no one would dare dismiss his opinions or ask him if he was too young to be a Jarl ever again!

While Siddgeir was daydreaming he couldn’t notice how Nathaniel had started riding beside him and tugging the reins of the Jarl’s destrier. The Breton had a small smile playing on his lips as he watched the Jarl’s expressions become more and more excited. Without a word, he kept steering the two horses towards the town of Falkreath. He was happy that he didn’t have to slaughter everyone in Helgen. He did do the occasional Bandit sweep there, always worrying that one of the Bandit chiefs might grow bold and attack Falkreath when the peakings went slim. This though felt somewhat different. Nathaniel had been slightly hurt when Jarl Balgruuf had told him he was no Thane of his anymore. Still, he would have done what was needed of him regardless of his past good experience with the blond Jarl.

When they finally reached Falkreath Siddgeir practically ran off in search of his steward, mind breaming with ideas of how to raise his population and turn his hold into the breadbasket of Skyrim. Nathaniel just watched him go with a found look and went to stow away the horses in the nearest farm, after which he went into the tavern to regale the population with songs of adventure and stories of slaying dreadful beasts. When he returned to the Longhouse for the night Siddgeir was hard at work, hunched over a map of the hold and discussing the prices of different livestock.

It was midnight when the Jarl finally came to the bed, only to see Nathaniel asleep with a book over his face. Chuckling to himself Siddgeir removed the book and played next to the sleeping man. He yawned and pulled the Dragonborn closer to him, entangling their limbs together as best he could without waking him and then he allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by Nathaniel’s soft snores.

The next few days were calm. With Siddgeir arranging for the livestock he needed to be delivered. Nathaniel had even been sent to escort it, much to his amusement. It took the Breton two days to arrive, mostly because the caravan had wanted to stop at Helgen for the night and then got attacked right outside it the very next morning. These nights Siddgeir barely slept. He missed having someone to hold. He missed waking up to warmth in his arms. And so when his Thane finally returned, a little bruised and sporting a cut that hadn’t been tended to, the Jarl was beside himself with worry.

He had dug his own first-aid equipment out, which he kept for the rare hunting accident, and stitched the Breton’s cut arm himself, refusing to allow Nathaniel to do so himself to which the Breton only smiled with a far off look on his face.

While the Jarl’s plans to improve his hold were going smoothly they were doing so not fast enough. The fruit trees he wanted to plant would probably not bear any fruit in his lifetime. His people were hunters, for the most part, and he couldn’t expect them to become herdsmen overnight. Still, the days passed peacefully until one of them didn’t carry a missive from Jarl Ulfric Stormcloack for the Dragonborn to come and join him for the taking of Solitude. And so Siddgeir was left alone again. He tried to plan further but the only thing he could think was that Nathaniel was out there, fighting a force that outnumbered him and there was no one who cared for his health with him.

And so the Jarl waited for his Thane to return home. The news that Solitude had fallen and Jarl Elisif had kept her head and was going to be married to Ulfric Stormclock came and went and yet there was no sign of the Breton. The winter came and the only news Siddgeir received of Nathaniel’s wellbeing came from Stormcloack himself. With assurances that the Breton was off fighting the Dragon menace and that was why he couldn’t come back right away.

Then one-night Siddgeir awoke to lightning in the skies and a terrible scream coming from the Throat the World. Once the sun rose he finally got the news: Alduin, the bane of Kings was defeated! The Dragonborn was heavily wounded but alive. Hearing this Siddgeir rushed to the farm that acted as a stable for the town with the full intention of going to his lover. Only to be stopped by his uncle.

“Your man wouldn’t want you getting abducted by bandits, boy! He will come back to you, don’t doubt that.” Dengeir had said. When Siddgeir had tried to bypass him his uncle had ordered the nearby guards to lock him inside his Longhouse and them, curs that they were, did just that.

Months passed and his people were adamant to not let him leave the town. Being denied that he wrote letter after letter to Jarl Ulfric asking for information. The one note he finally received told him Nathaniel was healing and was in too much pain to be moved. That had prompted Siddgeir to try and leave his town in the dead of night, only for a passing old warrior to see him and blow the whistle at him.

Being guarded more than before he threw himself in his work. Improving his plans and readying the first shipments of excess food that were meant for Dawnstar and Windhelm. He waited as the snow melted. He waited as spring bleed into summer and finally as if sensing he could not wait anymore Nathaniel finally returned to him. The very first thing Siddgeir did was to embrace him. He didn’t care that there were people in the street galking and shaking their heads in approval. He didn’t care nor did he notice how his uncle finally dismissed the extra guards on the Longhouse. No, the only thing he cared about was the Breton in his arms.

The second thing was to drag him to the Longhouse. Nathaniel had to explain himself! It wasn’t fair that he hadn’t done it before. But just as he was about to give the mercenary a piece of his mind he noticed something that took him aback. There was an amulet of Mara around Nathaniel’s neck. Siddgeir gaped openly at it.

“Interested in me, are you?” Said Nathaniel as smug as one can be.

“You…” began Siddgeir uncertainly.

“Erm, I spoke to the Priest of Mara at Riften and then he sold me an amulet and told me to show it to you and that this was how engagements were done in Skyrim. Unless I had to craft you a ring as well? That’s it, isn’t it? You wait here and I will make one for you.”

With that, Nathaniel made to leave only to have his hand grabbed and held in place.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Said Siddgeir quietly.

“Did you arrange everything already?”

“I did, well sort of. I wasn’t sure who to invite. Who should we invite, my Jarl?”

Siddgeir broke from his stupor to regard the man in front of him. He moved closer and embraced him again.

“You leave that to me. Just go to Riften and wait for me there.”

With that, he reluctantly let go of the Breton and the man exited as fast as he had come. Siddgeir planned his wedding as fast as he could. Inviting as few people as he could. Of course, he had to invite Jarl Ulfric and his new wife, they were to be King and Queen, after all. With the new threat of the Dominion, he dared not divide Skyrim for the sake of his own ambition. There could always be a moot in his favor once Falkreath was strong enough and his army finished training.

The day of the wedding he had been forced to take his uncle with him, because as the old grump had said “I am not missing the wedding of my only kin, now make space in the carriage, boy!”. He had even seated him in the place of honor right next to Jarl Ulfric and Jarl Elisif. Maramal, the town’s Priest, assured him that the Dragonborn would show up and he did. Wearing fine clothes for once and with a soft smile on his face. The very same one that made Siddgeir’s knees weak.

And as they both promised to be there for each other, now and forever, Dengeir dried a couple of tiers and blew his nose noisily, much to the embarrassment of his nephews.


End file.
